The Rule Is
by Serinah
Summary: Ron is in love. He wants to tell her, but how? What's the best way?


The rule is – just start writing and the rest will follow. At least that's what they said and Ron hoped _they_ (whoever they were) knew what they were talking about. Because he had no clue. He'd been sitting behind his desk for a quarter of an hour now chewing on his bottom lip and nothing was coming to him. Not a word.

The parchment wasn't very good - its surface was a bit uneven (it was one of the cheapest sheets sold) and his quill was a bit scratchy at the tip. Neither would have been a problem in and out of themselves, but combine the two and his less than neat handwriting turned more or less illegible. It had never been a problem before, since he rarely reread his own class notes anyway, but this time he wanted... well... isomeone/i to read it. Someone particular. And what would be the point in writing a letter that no one could read?

Well, nothing for it then. He touched his quill to the paper.

Ron wasn't what one could call a writer. In fact, he wasn't even a man of big words. Not to say that he wasn't known to chat away at his friends when he felt like it, but talking to girls was different. Especially when he fancied one. So he had decided to write.

'_My dearest,_' he started. Was it too corny? Or was it romantic? Ron had no idea. Normally he would've asked Hermione about it, but he could hardly ask her to write a love letter for herself, now could he? Besides-

"Oh hell!"

He scratched the words out.

_'Dear Her'_ he wrote, but halted then. Too impersonal? Conventional? His mum wrote letters that started like that!

_Hermione,_

_I-_

"Oh, sod it all!" Ron exclaimed. He had no idea how to put in writing what he wanted to say. Should he just do what Lavender did? Grab and kiss? But this was _Hermione_! One doesn't just grab a girl like that, he thought miserably. Ron wanted to write that he loved her, but he also felt as if he should apologise for the time lost, but would Hermione understand? Or would it even matter if she had never actually thought about him like _that_. Or even if she had, it might simply be too late, because watching him snogging Lavender could have made her change her mind.

In the end, (almost two hours later) Ron had resorted to cheating – he copied a verse from some chit called Emily Dickinson and used a Calligraphy spell on his quill. It was a bit messy but still a lot neater than anything he could have written himself. And – most importantly – it was readable.

That was that then. Running quickly to the Owlery he sent the letter sent and left for the Quidditch practice.

oOo

"Oi! Ron, whatta hell are you still doing in the showers?" Harry yelled from the changing rooms.

Ron closed his eyes and let the scalding hot water pour on his back. Silently he counted to ten and turned the water off.

"Coming, hold your shirt on," he yelled back.

Ten minutes later they were at the castle. Although Ron had just taken a shower he was sweating again. Hermione would have got the letter by now.

"You alright?" Harry asked. "You've been distracted the whole practice. Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Ron stuffed his fists in pockets and stared stubbornly straight ahead. "Fine."

He saw Harry frown and nod. Thankfully he didn't comment. Harry was a good mate.

Ron pushed the double doors and strode purposefully towards the Great Hall. As expected, Hermione was there. She was sitting between Neville and some firstie. She smiled at them when they reached the table. Although Hermione seemed to be in a good mood, or even a very good mood if one chose to take in her flushed cheeks and a somewhat distracted way she was peering around her as if looking for someone, she paid Ron no special attention.

His long limbs felt wooden as he was arranging himself between the bench and the table.

"Hi, Ron. Harry," she said and continued to explain Neville something about stirring with a tin spoon in a steel cauldron.

Hi?! Hi, Ron? And _Harry_? What did Harry have to do with anything? _Hi, Harry_? What was she, a Patil twin? Hadn't she got his letter? He peeked at the stack of books next to her – and yes, there it was, peeking out from between her Arithmancy textbook. Hadn't she opened it yet?

And then he remembered. And blanched.

"Hey, mate," Harry said quietly and nudged him in the shoulder. "Stop staring. If Seamus notices you'll never hear the end of it."

Ron dropped his eyes and took his fork. The buzz of voices went on around him and his thoughts were a swirl. The scene of him breaking the calligraphy spell and rolling up the parchment was playing over and over in his head. He hadn't signed. He'd meant to sign in his own hand, but forgot. Hermione had no idea it was from him, because he hadn't signed.

Ron Weasley was the biggest idiot ever born.

"Of, fuck it!" he muttered, stood and lifted Hermione up by her armpits. He dragged her over the table separating them and kissed her.

oOo

My River

My river runs to thee.

Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me?

My river awaits reply.

Oh! Sea, look graciously.

I'll fetch thee brooks

From spotted nooks.

Say, sea,

Take me!

By Emily Dickinson


End file.
